Shashi Tharoor - The mistaken freshman!

His ‘agglomerative Indian’ comment brought some dislike, and now its his ‘cattle class’ comment that makes me wonder if Shashi Tharoor is a little too over-educated for Indian Politics. For those who still contain that question mark on their face, I found it apt to launch our column, with some insight on the hot issue surrounding Tharoor and his ‘intelligent tweets’.

I was elated when the election results steered towards Tharoor’s dreams, not just, because he is a fellow Malayalee, but also because he is a prolific author, columnist, journalist and more. If anything, before being elected to the office of the Ministry of State for External Affairs, he held a much-coveted position of the UN Under-Secretary General, which later led him to come second to Ban-Ki Moon, in the race to the post of UN Secretary General. I even began to think, that Indian Politics had taken a turn for good with young and wise blood sweeping the elections with a majority (Arguably, at the age of 53, Shashi Tharoor would be categorized more under the latter). In today’s age of scraps, wall-posts and tweets, I was intrigued when Tharoor joined the second tier of ‘not-so-much-a-celebrity’ line of Tweeters. I looked at it from his point of view, where he wanted to be in pace with his subjects and more probably turn his office into a tech-savvy den. His fellow politicians made, his 10-minute tweet routine, sound like a time consuming activity, not allowing him to efficiently handle his ministerial affairs along with tweeting. I was thinking to myself, on how scornful could we get, when it is the exact critical ministers who have been putting away our Road and Power development projects, for ages. Ironically, a bunch of opposition party members followed suit of joining the Twitterati clan. Notable of them was Narendra Modi, who no one dared to criticize. Hence, I wondered if Shashi Tharoor is paying the freshman price.

His initial comments on how Force India’s victory can be seen, as a triumph for the agglomerative Indian, were misinterpreted by most of his followers. We Indians, well known for being scornful and masters of flouts, decided to quote him and brush off this win to a German car and an Italian Driver, whilst the ‘mistaken’ politician had intended the quote to be on a positive note stressing on how we standby the mantra of triumph in spite of diversity. If anything, we should have seen this victory as an answer to those absent-minded folks who still wonder if we travel on bullock-carts on unpaved roads. I read Tharoor’s quote with pride wondering how India had scripted its own legacy among the ‘big boys’. (Before I get too carried away with Force India and its laurels, I shouldn’t forget that Tharoor has my spotlight, this month)

And so trouble didn’t end with that for Shashi Tharoor; His latest response to a question dug his opponent’s trenches even deeper, thus helping them to solidify their case against his ‘socialite’ image. On twitter, a reporter had questioned him if, on his next visit to Kerala, he would travel cattle class? (In light of how some high profile ministers have been travelling economy class, thus trying to set an example to their comrades). Tharoor, wittily responded “Absolutely, in cattle class out of solidarity with all our holy cows." The moment he hit the ‘tweet’ button on his page from Liberia (on diplomatic mission), it was equivalent to ‘D’ Day by the coast of Normandy. Heavy artillery showered from every side. The words ‘cattle-class’ and ‘holy cows’ triggered everything from ministers, asking him to quit, to calling him an imbecile.

Unaware of all these developments, my usual morning checks on Shashi’s Tweets, gave me a reason to smile. His reference to the cattle class clearly was directed towards the poor policies of how airlines managed to herd the economy class passengers, as one would do to cattle. And the term holy cow was meant to refer to the sacrosanct issues or principles that no one dared to challenge, and not literally referred to any individual. I wouldn’t blame anyone who criticised Shashi on a knee-jerk instinct (as his humour is truly at a different level). I would lie, if I said that I got the humour on my first go. It did take me a while and a couple of re-reads for the frown to convert into a smile. With Tharoor and his humour, it’s more along the lines of waking up on the same side of the bed, yet being faced with something with a twist, everyday.

But asking him to quit his position was ridiculous. It forced me to wonder how some our cob-webbed politicians could be referred to some basic literature and humour classes. If anything I would commend Shashi Tharoor’s attempt on being accessible to the Internet population. Whilst being the best at complaining that our politicians are unaccountable and inaccessible, here you have a minister who has about 200,000 (and growing!) people subscribing to his feeds on Twitter. (To the world of twitter, it may seem to be a meagre number, but mind you we are talking about a land, where many are yet to even explore Google!). At times I wonder, even if he had this contempt against the general population, why would he even call them cows on a public domain such as Twitter. I would be furious, had his blabber been secretly taped and released. Forget firing him, I would even move a case for his deportation. But again, my emotions are zooming way ahead for we are talking Shashi Tharoor here. With his background as a ‘sarcy’-critical author, I would be amazed if his intelligent wits did not kick in.

True, Shashi would think twice before he tweets or even speaks at parliamentary procedures. That would be an unnecessary lesson learnt the harsh way. But if I were a freshman at politics, I too would first work towards establishing my foundation and building bridges at every career-junction, rather than strumming the wrong strings. If anything, I see Shashi Tharoor as prime-ministerial material in the near future, provided he plays his cards (to come), well and cautiously.

But before I end, this thought lingers, on how the journalist who asked Tharoor the controversial question about the cattle class, wasn’t brought to task; In fact, all that Shashi Tharoor did was repeat the term in the journalist’s query. I guess that is what may force the politician Shashi Tharoor to put the journalist in him, to sleep.

This article was written for the Indian Cultural Association @ York University, monthly newsletter, under the column name of Monthly Musings. The opinion mentioned here is truly personal and is not intended to hurt any person's opinion or feeling.

and the drama continues...

I stood there, not just chewing but chomping my nails... Suddenly I felt burdened by a lot of stress. Stress of performing my character, stress of what Vignesh would say once he got back to school, stress of how the audience would accept a male dressed up as a female amidst the various genuine female actors.

To introduce Vignesh a.k.a Thamma - an Ooty hybrid boarder who had bits and pieces of the Tamil film industry in himself. With his ideas he would flourish within the South Indian borders but would be laughed at, everywhere else. That controversial style of delivering dialogues, that hero delivering his thundering punches to various (2 times the hero's size) villains, the slow-motion walk and run. This guy had everything in him to make it to the top in nothing but Tollywood. It was probably that enthusiasm and sincerity that got him as our stage hand for the Inter-School Dramatics held at Stanes Higher Secondary.

Weeks before the competition, we decided on a story, and characters were laid out. I had my eyes on the protagonist, who had this problem of betting over everything, since the whole story revolved around him. The next character who would be a turning point would be Ms. Peggins. But the fact that the character came with the title of 'Ms.', repelled me. The fact that Peggins was a female character horrified me!
And as Murphy's laws predicts, its always the untowardly that happens, I ended up with Ms. Peggins. The explanation our director had was - "Oh Sandesh, you will breeze through that role. just be yourself". It was a mixture of anger and hatred that flowed through me. But the fear of being kicked out of the play, otherwise forced me to settle with the role.

Weeks go by, and our play takes shape, beautifully. We practiced day and night, hoping to bring the first dramatics award to Josephs. We didn't leave any stone unturned. And that meant that i had to even wax my legs, as the damned character decided to wear a skirt during the story. We knew the competition would be stiff, as Ooty was the hub for schools. We used to joke at times, more than a temple around every corner, you are most likely to find a school in Ooty.
The day dawns. We are driven to our host school - Stanes Higher Secondary. I was excited, totally oblivious to what was to follow.
Just as I thought that waxing my legs would be the worst I would have to go through, our lady professor walks in with a weird piece of clothing in her hands. She hands it over to me, letting me know that I would be wearing that garment. Humour apart, till I unfurled that piece, I thought it would be a blouse. To my despair, it was a bra. I shrieked and went into a sense of decline. And to make matters worse, the professor said that, since I lacked a chest (blame it on me being skinny), this totally alien garment would help me with that. At that moment all I prayed was, God descended from above and gave me a wish. Not money, not wisdom but I would have wished for a CHEST.
I felt even worse, when I thought of what my peeps would say, once they came to know that Sandesh had worn a bra. With constant re-assurances, pleading and swearing to secrecy, I allowed myself to consider wearing it for the name and fame of Josephs. But fate had decided that it wouldn't go down without a fight. Just when I was beginning to wear the weird garment, Vignesh walks in. Gasps, awkward silence, sympathy, wicked smile, muffled laughter; he exited the room.
I thought of alternatives, but my mind just went numb. A flash of what was to follow, ran through my head. But we were due on stage in a few minutes, and probably it was the stress of performing that allowed me put Vignesh and his sight, behind me.

Our play was a huge hit. So much that our protagonist got the best actor, our play was judged the best play.....and our feminine character lost the top spot by a few points. Later on, one of the judges came up to me and said - "It would be weird if you received a certificate stating Best Female Role, so we decided to give it to a REAL girl...Good job though". It was satisfying yet intriguing. I was satisfied that i did my role well, yet worried that i did a feminine role better than a girl.

Amidst celebrations, we boarded the bus and as fate had it, I got to sit next to Vignesh. With his irritating mischievous smile, he leaned forward and said, "Good work Nancy, how did it feel inside?" At that very instant, everything rushed back into me. I was thinking fast. Initially i thought, ill just brush him off and face things as it comes. But the weaker one inside me got the better of me and I offered him a bribe to zip his mouth. (as a foreplay) It never stopped with just one bribe.
All throughout the rest of the time at school, Vignesh had hearty canteen meals, all-you-can-eat candy and pop. All that and more just at the click of his fingers and his signature eye-brow movement

Our annual day comes by, and we are asked to perform the play again. But this time I had coconut shells and a towel, to assist me. It was tougher than having to wear a bra, but the thought of more people walking in ,while I am getting dressed and the thought of more bribes helped me to move on!

How Oliver Twist'ed my days...

Guys ridiculed me when I joined the dramatics club. My reasoning behind that decision was - At first, there would be no bodily harm which was the case in many sporting clubs (hence I stuck to the Rifle Club and during athletic meets, I used be a part of the school band!!!); the second reason being that, if my luck spun well, this would get me into the world of celluloid ( I was and still fascinated by the glim-glam world of film and photography - None of which actually materialized) But I did have my share of fun and distress with this branch.

Everything seemed perfect, when our drama club was invited to Hebrons (A top notch British international school). Once the invitation was announced in our morning assembly, we met with a huge influx of applications to join the club, even though the deadline dates to sign up for clubs were done about 5 months ago. Hebrons was one of those schools where they had an impressive opposite sex ratio - hence the influx.

For once, people around me were trying to pull strings with me, in order to get on that bus to Hebrons. I decided to make profit out of the offers, though in the end I knew I could always say, that I tried my best to put their names on the list, but that stubborn teacher, did'nt permit.

We were in our best outfits. Some of us borrowed our school blazers from the disciplined and well kept students. I remember our accompanying professor complaining of the whiff of cologne. We were just short of taking bath in it. The dramatics club members who untill a few days back were a bunch of bozos and rejects, were given a heroes departure.

The drama went well and we were all so involved and blown away with the performances. Though every time I was drawn towards the Oliver Twist character. Some thing didn't seem right about him. He was just too feminine in every action, but I wrote that off to the character being enacted.

Time comes when each character was being felicitated. Our main character is called upon, as Natasha Singh, who came up and pulled off her English cap, and I was caught gaping. At that time, there was nothing but Natasha Singh in my nut. Fireworks in every corner of my head, I was smitten by this girl. She was cute, bubbly, and was the center of attention for that evening. All I wanted to do was to jump off my seat and do something stupid that would catch her attention!!! I didn't waste time in approaching her and expressing my surprise. She shook hands and thanked us as a whole (since I was blinded by this enterprising girl, I thought she thanked me specially) for attending the drama. For nights and days to follow, the hot topic was Natasha Singh. As time flew, everything simmered down, and Natasha got lost in some corner.

A year passes by. Its the Inter School Football final for the Super-Senior Division. We won the junior and senior divisions and our batch would rewrite history if we won our division too. Winning all three divisions, would be a feat that was last accomplished about 4 years back. Drums, horns, voice boxes, anything and everything that would make a noise rolled out. We were a bunch of let loose hooligans who had the license to do anything we wanted, provided we help our team win. As destiny had it, Hebrons was playing against us. We were glad that a co-ed school was playing against us, because their whole school would be on our grounds and if anything we would have a good cheer battle session. To add to our excitement, Hebrons was the only school who had an all-girls cheer squad. So that added to our vigour in cheering.

Half time comes through, I decide to quench my parched voice box..I keep walking towards our canteen and this voice excuses herself - asking me directions to the washroom. It hit me then, I knew it then and there, I turned and she stood right there - a tad taller, longer hair yet with the same features that made me weak in my knees, a year ago.

I whispered Natasha and I am so glad, she didn't catch me on that. Against the slightest hope of she recognizing me, she enquired about the washroom again, in her thick British accent. I still beat myself on what happened after. I spoke anything but English and when I realised, nothing would work, I stopped talking..I guided her to the washroom whilst she had this weird look on her face. Only if she knew what ran through me. I disappeared fearing, i would do something really dumb (At that moment, dumbness ranged from cheering for Hebrons to pleading to the Hebrons director to make me one of their own)

Call it a fantasy, probably it was her accent or it was her sheer innocence, Ms Singh troubled me through the rest of the game. We ended up winning but yet for once I did not want that game to end fearing her departure and never getting to see her again. I kept gathering courage to at least go up to her and apologize for the weird behaviour. Just when I found enough, I saw her bus disappears through our gates. I felt like i let her go through the gaps of my fingers. I did not feel too dejected that day, since we won and the excitement of the celebrations to follow buried my dejection of missing out on Natasha.

I smirk, every time I think of how destiny decided to tease me,TWICE. I am positive that she never even remembers that comical character who showed her to the washroom. Yet I had a lesson learnt, ever since - to never procrastinate on ANYTHING!
I guess, had she known me as a person, bigger catastrophes would have taken place

(ye ye! call it sour grapes)

Shoulders to hang on to.......

Everyone has had that moment in their lives, when they look back wondering, how one's life changed after a specific experience. Though initially excited, halfway through I doubted my folks' unconditional love for allowing me to move away. Later it dawned upon me, that I couldn't have scripted a better ending to my school years. My parents let me learn to run my own race, the hard way, yet not a day goes by when I do not thank them for it. Thank them so much, that I would do the same with my kids too when I reach to that.

My two years at Ootacamund, has been the 'best days of my life'-hands down.Friends became eternal to me. I write this with a few of the many interesting characters I got involved with.

Guys who I hated with passion, turned brothers from another mother. Such was my relation with Senthil a.k.a - Kaka (for reasons not to be disclosed!). From fist fights in 11th, I stood up for him even when I knew I was supporting a lost cause, in 12th. This so called 'one of the pillars of the SJC soccer team defenses' had the temper shorter than the wick of a new candle. I even lied to the authorities about my nasal operation, to attend his sister's wedding -which happened just 2 weeks before our final exams. Our study hours spiked up to 8 -10 hours a day as we closed in on our final exams. We've had fights on our Formula 1 teams, yet he used to see that he gets me out of bed by 4 in order to do that extra calculus problem. I still hold on dearly to that 'Cadbury Temptation Diwali box' and the lame letter he gave me for my birthday. If anything, that one day I went for his sister's marriage, the whole Kumar household considered me more of their own than an outsider.

Talking of considering me one of their own, the Natrajans hold a special place too. Enter this character Balaji Natarajan a.k.a Bonda (again, disclosure not considered). He was this nerd who wasn't anything close to a nerd. My envy towards him somehow changed to brotherhood. Seemingly unassuming but horribly smart, this guy was the only one who stood between me and ranker's board (We had this big blue board, on which every topper's name got engraved). Initially I hated him, just because he never tried hard, yet got results. Come our 12th grade and we became the nerd team. I am still left puzzled on how my envy turned into admiration for the guy. I remember, the day of the release of our grades, the moment I knew my grades, my fingers were already dialing an international call...Balaji picks up and says- " Da (a more loving way of addressing a loved one of the same age!) I'm happy for your 93%", though not mentioning a word about his 98% grade, fearing that I would feel dejected. I still dream of his mother's lavish lunch, which I just couldn't stop devouring, and being skinny and puny really helped. Aunt would just keep serving me more and more.

Enough said about the heroes, one of the villains in my school life was Pon Srinivas. Pon was from a background which spoke for itself. This guy had everything from Rolex watches to Skoda cars. He is a warm guy at heart but first impressions will make or break it for him. In my case, it was not just break, but SHATTERED. This guy was successful on every front, on making life miserable for me. Yet today, when I look back, I would dedicate my whole self to his tortures. I changed...changed for the good. True, he could have initiated those changes in me through better means, but then I wouldn't remember and cherish Pon for who he was. From a family of successful businesses, this guy was ever ready to help with doubts on the stock markets and the business world (which would be equivalent to today's WII's and X-boxes)...On our last day, before leaving school, he came up to me, close to tears (which was totally against his big-shot image) and apologized for his actions. He had just one line for me, which to date rings in my ears "Da, you've evolved a lot...Just do not hold any ill towards us!"

All throughout my boarding life, I thought I had no friends and that I was more in a war against those name callings and fun making. Yet, now I look back and realize that it was that same fun making, which taught me to suck up and face difficulties rather than giving up on them. I thought wrong of each and every individual who helped me get through those years. From stressful examination days to fun-filled movie nights, from fights to sticking up for each other, from homesickness to football and athletic cheers and chants, every day had a new lesson for me.
I might have fell short in appreciating it at that moment..But as my dad says "Absence makes us grow fonder". And for the past 4 years since and for time to come my Ooty days have only grown fonder!

P.S - I dedicate this blog to the rest of the EXPLOITED batch (SJC, 2004- 2005). Space doesnt permit, yet I cherish my days with each and everyone. Dineth, Pradeep, Muthu, Juzer, Shekhu, Imran, Monish, Faisal, Farhan, Saadiq, Bovas, Riju, Gopi, Arvind, Chandan, Prasena, Nirmal, Satheesh, Appachu, Roshan, Vignesh, Rizwan, Jishar,Yogesh, Rahul, Mithesh and anyone whom I 've missed. Wherever I go, whatever I do or whatever I become, you guys shall always be a part of the reason.Once a Josephite, always a Josephite - Blues and Whites!!!